Alstair sat astride his chrove head bowed to the rain hood drawn over his head and his spear at hand. He was working the edge of the city today just inside the wall ready for whatever would happen. Dren was by far more of a worry than Morde right now. At least Morde had a morality that made sense. The Blue Dragoon was something else. Something not right. He sent chills down Altair's spine when they had first met and ever since he had tried to figure out how someone could be so utterly...cold.

Regardless, he would be sending some poor lackey to do his dirty work and that made things all the worse. He or she could literally be anywhere and anyone. He was on his toes almost constantly and had gotten back into old war habits. He slept less and made sure he had a knife beneath his pillow just in case.

Tonight the air felt alive to him. Tonight felt like one of the nights from the old days. The nights when they would have leveled whole villages and left no trace as to who it was. Back in the days when Monsters such as Dren and Siccus and Amani and himself still could be what they truly were instead of trying to pose as mere men. Tonight he would shed that mortal skin and walk as a monster in the shape of a man once more. He could feel it.

Dren watched Alstair glide through his patrol with a bored glare. He'd expected to feel energised by this moment, yet all he felt was a numb sort of apathy. Much like how he'd felt during the war, before he'd had his episode. He trailed Alstair with his crossbow for some time, waiting for the right moment to fire.

He let the bolt fly once Alstair was close enough to Amani. It flew like silver light, striking Alstair's mount in its leg. The animal shrieked and reared, screaming in pain and bucking, twisting to see what had hit it. It would be difficult to calm the animal. It was looking for an assailant that wasn't there.

Dren reloaded and reaimed, waiting for a chance to shoot the beast in the head.

Amani waited for Dren to finish the beast off, not bothering to approach until he had. She wasn't going to fight two monsters at a time. Better let the Blue Dragoon even the odds. Still, even as she leaned against the wall in the alley she was hiding in, she wished Dren had a better aim.

Alstair swore bitterly as the beast reared. It figured any fight with Dren would not be a fight he would see coming. He really had no option but to ditch his mount sadly and lose his biggest advantage in a fight where he was outnumbered.

Thank gods he had learned how to fight from the saddle. He pulled his feet free from the stirrups and tried to dive clear of his injured chrove before it was too late to do so.

It was no easy thing to hit a moving target, especially one that was thrashing like Alstair's chrove was. Dren had always liked that about Seventen, not all their mounts were battle tested. Especially not this one, it was fairly young, still being trained. A gigantic, horned beast was no good to you if you upset it. They'd be better off with horses; you could still boss a horse even if it started to buck. Chances are you'd be thrown and trampled anyway but it was much easier than doing so with a creature three times the size.

He aimed again. He'd chosen cheap but effective bolts, hopefully they'd be able to pin this on the human resistance. He let the bolt fly. It hit the chrove in the neck, piercing the muscle but missing the throat and the major arteries. The animal shrieked, screaming loud enough to gather attention. Alstair managed to clear the saddle but he couldn't entirely avoid the horns. He was butted by the flat of it, winding him.

Quietly, Quietly please for Hulali's sake--

Amani swore under her breath when the beast shrieked. She'd have to do this fast, before someone reported the activity to any nearby authorities. Hopefully Dren had thought far enough ahead to check and see if Alstair's patrol was in a secluded area because she sure as vita hadn't.

She waited a few moments, hoping the beast would stop thrashing soon so she could get down to business.

Alstair sputtered at the hit even as he landed on the ground. He needed to Reset these odds. His mount was useless now and meant he had lost a huge advantage. If he could get it so that they could not see where he was he might be have been able to sneak up and finish whoever was attacking.

If he could lure in reinforcements this fight would easily fall in his favor...He rolled to his feet as fast as he could muster and already was concentrating on beseeching the mona. He needed an attention getter...conflagration Over there heads would work. a fireball would also maybe knock them down. had this been the old days he wold have just burned the city around him but He needed to at least come off as if he cared about causalities.

(2,4, d6. Amani is still hiding.)

Alstair's aim was no where near Amani. He might have thought that his attackers were close by but Dren was a rooftop away and Amani had yet to close the distance between them. His blood boiled at the feel of the familiar spell, his skin prickled in response. The explosion ripped forward, making a large boom and thankfully missing any homes. Had it drifted to the left or right, it could have taken out someone's living room. As it was, it flew up the street and hit the cobbles, leaving a substantial hole in the ground. There wasn't another seventen on patrol for near twenty five kilometres but in the quiet of the night, it was impossible not to hear the explosion.

"Alioe on a stick." Shouted Ensign Dadton, who had previously been considering the wonders of an early bedtime. "What the goddess was that?"

Dadton's superior was a veteran of the seventen, older than Alstair and about as experienced as you could be. He wiggled his moustache, as he often did when considering something.

"Let's go." He said, abandoning their patrol to investigate the disturbance.

Amani now had half an hour, possibly less, to conduct her business with Alstair before help arrived. Behind Alstair, his chrove was still flailing quietly, though it seemed to have quietened for now. Dren had yet to shoot it again and possibly wasn't going to.

(12 for chrove, d20)

Amani threw herself down on the floor when she felt the ground shake, covering her head with her arms until the tremor stop. That son of a bitch. She got up and stretched quickly. This was it.

She stepped out into the road and closed the distance between herself and her old companion.

"Are you done acting like a child?" She asked coldly, and bowed when he turned around. "Alstair Murdoh. You have been busy."

She drew her sword, her face closed and alert. "The only good thing you have ever done was kill that desema who ordered us about. But that was the act of a madman. And you are still mad." Her lips curved up into a small smile, "Do not worry. I am here to end your madness."

Amani waited for Alstair to draw his sword. Her field was buzzing although her stance was perfectly calm.

Alstair looked at Amani with a mix of respect and disgust.

"So dren has drawn you into his little web? It is good to see you Amani. Do you like playing attack dog for him?" He retorted drawing his blade. "You call me mad? I would think it might be true after what we did you know."

His field was a light with a crackling pulse. He already could feel old muscles tensing up ready to counter her first move. He needed to remember though. This was a dragoon a real fight, top it off more than likley whoever shot off the crossbow was still lurking about...

Great...two enemies. Dren your thoroughness is as impressive as ever.

"I am nothing if not an attack dog, Alstair." Amani said casually, twirling her blade as she waited. "And I think 56 dead is a fair cause to kill you for, yes?"

She moved suddenly and fluidly to his right, aiming for his side. If he hadn't blown something up she might have had time to toy with him, get used to his fighting style-- but no, this match was now meant for speed.

(5, d6)

Amani's blade was quick and true, speeding towards Alstair's unprotected waist. If she hit, she was going to carve a line through his intestines. Alstair was going to have to parry the blow perfectly and dodge, to avoid losing some rather important internal organs.

Alstairs sword moved his left arm darting into the way and bringing the blade into a parry. He needed to get in close and actually slow her down if he was going to win this fight.

"Fifty six dead? You make it sound like you have never killed yourself. How many dead haunt your dreams?" He hissed.

(Ohhhh, shit 1, d6)

Amani was moving too quickly for Alstair to block effectively, stunned as he was from jumping off his chrove and being hit by its horn. Alstair's sword glanced off Amani's, dropping from his hand. It was only his sideways momentum that saved him from being gutted. Even then, she still had first blood, cutting through the skin and periphal muscle of Alstair's right side. It wasn't enough to incapacitate him but it was going to slow him down. He was losing blood quickly.

His sword was at his feet now, scant metres away. Alstair at least had the right sort of training for dealing with pain but so did Amani. It was clear that this fight was going to end quickly, though who would be the victor was undecided.

Alstair's chrove was now gasping for air and hissing at the fighting. It did not know Alstair well enough to run after him and try to butt Amani out of the way. It was young and wary of the swords. It was not going to do anything. Dren watched the proceedings from his vantage point, looking for reinforcements and ready to warn Amani.

(10, d20 for chrove)

Hoping to take advantage of both the wound and the fallen sword, Amani attacked again. She pulled her arm back and brought her sword down in a chopping motion, trying for his neck. She didn't waste time or breath attempting to speak, although it was customary to hurl insults at the opponent.

Alstair quickly began to back peddle making space between him and Amani. His mouthing muttering Monite aiming Immolation straight ahead at his foe. He could only hope that he was faster than her blade.

((Alstair has just been cut open, this would have an affect on him. Your posts should vaguely reflect that. Rolls for this round, 2,1,3 D6. Speed of move in favour of Amani, dodge in favour of Alstair. 8, D20 for chroven.))

Amani's sword was quick but Alstair managed to limp out of the way of her strike. It was a beautiful move but it only managed to hit thin air. Alstair's blood loss was already making him more sluggish and he was lucky that experience saved him from brailing his casting of Immolation. As it was, the spell was weaker than normal, the mona was aware of Alstair's weakened state and his casting lacked it's usual punch. The spell bloomed in Alstair's hands, moving towards Amani but it took far longer to cast a spell than it had for her to use her blade. She might have recognised the change in Alstair's field and the movement of his lips, knowing each other as well as they did. She possibly had time to dodge. If the spell did not hit her, it was going to go into someone's front garden.

Alstair had done nothing to stem his bleeding. If he did not act upon the wound soon, the consequences would be grievous. Alstair's chrove screamed again as Alstair cast, slamming into a nearby fence and trundling further away from the fighting.

Amani attempted to dodge by rolling to the right, tucking her arms across her chests so that her sword wouldn't get in the way. She was faintly surprised he could cast through the pain he must be feeling. Amani had never been able to cast during any of their bigger battles because she had remained so focused on her weapons and her army.

(2, d6)

Amani recognised Alstair's attack but she only had enough time to move partly out of the way, The flames scorched her left arm, burning through her clothes and causing intense pain. She too was going to have to heal or risk the fight ending prematurely. The damage was not as bad as it could have been, given Alstair's weakened state but a burn was a burn. She could not use her left arm with such damage.

The explosion continued it's arc, landing a short distance away into someone's garden. The impact extended to the house behind it, shattering the windows and cracking the front wall. Amani and Alstair could hear screams coming from within. The house caught fire.

((Civilian area.))

Alstair gasped as he stumbled away clutching his injured body. Ducking into the nearest alley he ground his teeth. Hissing for breath he gathered what strength he could. Slumping against the wall he readied for a possible brailing.

well let's hope I've got one more in me....

bleary eyes he began to cast stitch wound praying to alioe that the mona would grant him this boon.

Amani screamed when she felt pain in her arm flare up. She dropped sheathed her sword when she saw Alstair leave to hide. Her eyes were watering. She took a few deep breaths, glad that her old companion had fallen back for the moment so she could gather herself. She cast Heal Tissue on her arm, hoping it would at least heal it partway so that she could follow Alstair and hopefully kill him once and for all.

((Rolls for this round, 2,4 for Alstair on movement and spell. Amani is 4 for spell, d6.))

The nearest alley was not as close as it had seemed when Alstair had started running. The movement caused his wound to bleed more and hurt, straining the unsevered muscle and membrane that was keeping his insides from becoming outsides. He found he had to struggle for breath for a moment. It was becoming more difficult to focus and Alstair's shirt was now a deep and darkening red. He had lost more than he really could have afforded to. His casting was more sluggish now, his field hummed, throbbing around him as he felt consciousness threaten to lapse.

He didn't feel anything after he cast, which was terrifying in and of itself. It was as though his body was too overwhelmed to bother sending extraneous information. Then he felt a searing pain in his side as the severed skin began to knit. It was a patch only, he did not have the skill or time to do more. If he jostled it too much it was going to open again. He was now in more pain than ever, suffering from bloodloss but thankfully having stopped it from going further. He was tiring, he had already cast three spells in quick succession. If he tried something else, something else big, he was going to risk tripping over the syllables of monite.

Amani's arm was burned badly, she felt her field flex around the limb, seeming to cool it as she cast Heal Tissue. The wound itched and weeped, Amani felt as though her arm was being frozen solid as it healed. She could smell bitter lemon as she worked, slowed down by the fact that the wound hadn't burned past the nerves. It would make it easier for her to recover later but it just made it harder to bare the pain while the wound was fresh. She managed to lay down a protective layer of skin over the exposed burn but it took time, precious time that she did not have. She could no longer see Dren on the rooftops but that did not mean that he was coming to her aid.

She could move the arm again but it was still too weak to hold a weapon and she had done nothing to stop the pain.

Humans had begun to look out of their houses and a woman ran shrieking from the house that Alstair had hit, clutching a child. Someone screamed for buckets, to make a line. If they hadn't noticed Amani and Alstair yet, they were about to.

Amani tried to block out the pain, to concentrate on anything but the feeling of her flesh trying to remake itself. She also tried to be patient, but the humans who had begun to gather behind her were making her sweat. She wasn't afraid yet-- but she would be if one of them managed to catch sight of her. Struggling to calm herself, she picked up the sword she'd dropped and ran towards where Alstair had carried himself, noting the blood on the floor.

She ran a little faster, gasping a little as she accidentally moved her left hand and felt another jab of pain. When she found him she whipped her sword to the right, aiming towards the vulnerable area of his neck.

Alstair gruond his teeth in pain and wobbling a began to move out of the way Amani as he heard amani charging him. He needed a weapon and if worse came to worse he might be able to use the crowd to his advantage.

((Amani just rolled a 6.))

Amani's sword arm was made weak by the stress of being hurt and healing herself but not weak enough. Alstair's shakey steps away from her only took him partly out of the way of the blade. Amani felt like she'd struck a tree, Alstair felt the fire scorching pain as she cleaved a line across his chest, deep enough to graze and scar his ribs, his chest plate. It burned, again he was bleeding blood he could ill afford to lose.

Amani was spent, she wouldn't be able to perform another strike like that.

"What the clock is going on here?" Amani could hear it, Alstair could barely hear anything. It was the seventen.

Amani was going to need to run if she wanted to live. Alstair was going to need their help if he wanted to make it out alive.